A Twisted Cure
by One-Step
Summary: A man used as a test subject mysteriously wakes alone and abandoned after being injected with a strange serum. With no memory except his name and goal, and carrying a horrible curse, he must find and confront the men who did this to him.
1. Blurred

_I make no claims to the rights of World of Warcraft, the product, lore or anything associated with it. That is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, and they did a helluva job with it. Enjoy._

**Chapter One – Blurred.**

The harshly sanded wood of the rack dug painfully into his back, piercing through the skin and rubbing the flesh raw, allowing tiny beads of blood to conjure and fall steadily down. Every movement only multiplied the pain, but he felt next to nothing. The drugs had reduced his effectiveness to nothing. His pupils were dilated, his eyes like black moons. What he could see only appeared a bland brown, coupled with leaky black and bright white. His head was restricted from free movement, and as a result, he lay with his eyes shut tightly, cutting off the blinding light from reaching and tormenting his eyes. Sweat lay beaded at his brow, flowing down over his face and pooling into the contours of his eyes, another reason to keep them sealed shit. His hands, arms, feet and legs were all bound to the rack, and he thrashed slowly in an attempt to free himself as he became aware of being restrained. The messy light brown hair which lay hanging on the top of his head fell down to cover the top half of his head. His heart pounded endlessly, trying to free itself from the man's chest, and his breathing was ragged and harsh. The feeling of being helpless seemed much more present that it had been before. The last injection had been so brutal that the resulting thrashing it had caused was violent enough to snap a bone in his forearm in half. The pain of that injury was distant and faded. The drugs helped dull whatever dangerous mixture they tried next. His gaze fell upon his right arm, and more importantly the brace holding the limb against the rack. It looked to be made of thorium, as it was coloured a rusty red. He knew that regardless of what he tried, he had no chance at escaping. His struggling stopped and he let his head drop, allowing the sweat that had pooled up to run carefree from his face and fall onto the floor.

The room he was in was illuminated brightly. Lights lay spaced apart by no more than a foot. These included both mechanical and hand-powered (including a few candles). All were directed at him, preventing him from analyzing the room. What he could make out was little of importance. The walls were a faded white, as if the place had been built a few years back. Any signs of an entrance were unknown to him. The room only contained the lights, the rack, and him. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't control his thoughts. Whatever they had injected him with had messed with his mind, his sight and control of extremities. There was no way out, no hop-.

-The wall to his right shifted, a loud _whoosh_ erupting as a gust of air blew into the chamber. Two figures; a gray blob and a white blob, emerged from the wall, chattering softly to each other. Their shoes echoed in the room, assaulting the man's ears. The wall closed behind them, taking the fresh air with it. The two figured approached the rack, and gazed down at the ragged figure, glancing over him.

"Serum 94 seems to have acted as an anaesthetic, despite first predictions, affecting limb movement, and dulling the senses." The white blob announced.

"No, this one is taking effect; you can see it in him already. His system is adapting to the cure." The shade of gray replied defensively.

"Sir, by all means, he looks like his body is shutting down." The white blob announced. The figure brought his hands to the restrained man's face, and with a snap, fire lit on his fingers. The cascading combination of red, orange and yellow was marvelous and beautfiul, but it hurt every sensitive fibre in his eyes. "See, his pupils are severely dilated, his skin is damp and yet still sweating and you can hear his heart beating from here. This attempt was a failure. We can't test another sample, he will die." The flame disappeared from his fingers as fast as it had come as the gray blob snapped his hand again. The restrained man was still struggling, trying desperately to free himself, but he was secured tightly. He tried to speak, but his tongue would not move, and the only sound that came from him was odd, wet sloshes.

A low sigh, almost a growl of impatience originated from the gray man. "We can't toss him out, not yet. He's worth the most out of all of the other subjects, and we've made the most progress in curing him. "Barnes, another injection, triple the dose this time. This is the correct sample, I'm sure of it.

They paid no attention to the man's pitiful attempt to speak. The man referred to as Barnes hesitated, unsure. When he answered, his voice was low and cautious. "Giles, that will kill him, and we can't be sure that this will be the right sample."

The gray figure visibly shook, turning to face Barnes. His voice was filled with reproach and anger. "Don't ever use my name, Barnes, and never question my orders. This thing," he jabbed a finger at the man, "is our best hope at curing the disease. Triple dosage. Now. We solve this here, or he dies. Either way, we make some progress." The gray blur's arms disappeared behind his back as he turned and strolled away from Barnes.

Barnes nodded his head several times, hurrying back towards the wall and exiting as it opened. More fresh air blew softly in, before being cut away harshly as the door closed once again.

Giles looked down upon the man, a snarl on his face. ~ _This poor, pathetic creature should be glad of what he has taken part in. No one should live like him. The others, they're all the same and they will be cured as well, but first, we cure him. He's was like me, but this curse, it changed him, and it's my duty to cure him, whatever the cost. ~ _Giles shook his head. He knew Barnes was right. The man was deathly pale, and his body was failing. They needed to cure him now, or it would be too late to salvage anything. The man's face was gaunt, and hollow. His eyes were a dulled blue, and his body was almost nothing more than skin and bones. There was life in him still, and that made Giles happy. "Don't die on us yet, you're the biggest advancement in this whole project." He reached down to the left side of the rack, drawing away a piece of parchment, and glancing over the man's medical history. "Mr. Matthias Grenson, you're the most valuable man in the world to some, right now, especially to me and my colleagues". He scanned through the rest of the material, before letting the document drop to the floor. Giles sighed, he was tired of this work, of this cause. He was determined to save everyone, until he died, but with what he was puty his body through lately, that might come much sooner that he had hoped for. The wall behind him parted, Barnes rushing in.

Matthias looked up at the two figures, his tongue still not reacting. He wanted to ask what was happening, where he was, and what had they done to him. He didn't want to die. He had signed a contract, volunteered to be part of the "cure", but everything they had done to him bordered on torture, and despite what benefits this "cure" could offer, he did not want to suffer like this. As soon as he had finished this train of thoughts, his head darkened. Every current thought he had erased the last, another effect of the drug. He was only able to watch helplessly as Barnes came closer to the rack.

Barnes held a small syringe in one hand, but his vision was focused on the man named Giles. "Shall I proceed?" Matthias saw the gray figure of Giles nod its head, barely, and then could only watch as Barnes drew near. The needle drew closer and he could feel the cold material rub against the flesh his right wrist.

A tiny prick of pain blossomed in his wrist. The annoyance quickly evolved into a small tingling, causing his hand to tremble. The feeling worsened, the tingling turning into a burning, which amplified into a blaze. His arm felt on fire, and he could see his skin visibly change into a reddish, burned colour. The fire spread, through his chest, his legs, his left arm, and into his head. It coursed through his veins, tore through his muscles and made him writhe in agony. The restraints containing his arms and legs clanked and stretched as Matthias fell deeper into his horrible spasm. He thrashed, turned, and yelled, the babbling scream filling the tiny atmosphere of the room. He could still hear the delight in Giles voice through his torment.

"Barnes, look, LOOK! The dosage, it's taking effect." The grim satisfaction he was expressing was what imprinted itself into Matthias brain, and became deeply rooted in his thoughts. This wouldn't fade away. Then, the real effects of the drug kicked on. His body started to change. Bones broke, cracked and were turned to dust, only to be morphed into another structure. He twisted with every simple deconstruction and reconstruction. Matthias screamed and pleaded for it to stop, only drowl and nonsense escaped from his lips. He could feel the change working its way through his system. His arms stretched, his legs lengthened and his face grew. His voice turned from a high pitched whine into a low, trembling sob as the transformation came to a close. His vision became a black tunnel, and then, in one final, excruciating spasm, Matthias Grenson fell into an unconscious state.

"HAHA! Barnes, we did it." Giles voice rang with pleasure and happiness. "We've found the right serum; we can cure the world of his scum." Giles watched Barnes sigh and nod his head at the statement. "His form alteration was part one, but did it take control completely. We've rid them of their curse, it's only fair that we get something in return." Giles tossed a greedy grin towards Barnes, who never acknowledged the gesture.

Barnes took a deep breath, focusing his attention on the subject before them. "Well, let's find out..."


	2. Rude Awakening

**Chapter Two: Blank**

A dark figure lay collapsed in the centre of a clearing. The woods around the creature bristled with life. Birds flew and chirped, panthers prowled and plants flowered. The trees towered hundreds of meters high, out of eyesight, meeting together to connect at the top and block the many rays of light trying to penetrate the thick foliage. Grasses and shrubs consumed the floor of the forest, insects swarmed, ants crawled and spiders hunted, bringing together a complete ecosystem. A breeze began to blow, suddenly sharp and hard but dying almost immediately, but in those precious few seconds, the many trees blocking the rays of sun shifted, barely detectable, but enough to allow one ray through the mess of green. This ray of light pierced through the top of the trees, and shot straight down to the ground, right onto the darkened figure laying slumped on the ground.

The warmth from the light stirred a response from the hunched creature. It shifted, turned a bit, its chest beginning to move slowly as it inhaled air. It shuddered, a sign that could have been perceived as exhaustion, and then shifted into a coughing fit. A low whimper, mixed with a menacing growl, grew from the creature as it began to shift and move. Slowly bringing his right arm out and pushing off the ground, the figure rose to its knees and drew its head upwards.

Scratches and scrapes covered the creature's face, and a long, red stripe of paint was drawn down the left cheek. Its eyes were a ferocious yellow, long and slender; lupine shaped, with a long snout and high cheekbones. The worgen glanced himself over, examining the extent of his injuries. Besides the damage sustained to his face, the rest of him seemed to be intact, more or less. The dark, gray plate armour, lined with blood red was dented and faded in some spots. Every breath made him cringe; ribs may have been broken. Ruby red stained other parts of the armour, and an arrow jutted from the right breast of the chest piece. The worgen reached up to snap off the shaft, the arrowhead could be removed later. The creature took a deep breath and pushed off with its heel, propelling itself to a standing position. He suffered from a brief period of dizziness and nausea, which settled almost immediately. Looking around his surroundings; alone and lost in an unknown forest, Matthias Grenson screamed.

The roar was a mixture of pain, fear and anger; none of which he understood. He retreated into the mental protection of the mind, only to find a few working circuits. Everything was black, blank, nothing. No memory of what he was, who he had been, where he was now and what had happened. All he had was his name and one other primary though. Kill Giles. He didn't have a last name, or even a first, depending on which, but this was imprinted clearly in his brain. Regardless of how it was done, or why, this man, this monster must perish.

This was a task to approach later on, after he found out where he was and after he got to someplace familiar. _Which direction?_ That was Matthias's only thought. He prowled deep into his brain, hoping to drum up a recognizable image of this place, or at least some clue to help him find wherever he needed to go.

Delving into a damaged mind was dangerous, and this, Matthias learned right away. Painful images, disoriented and alien screamed into his head. _Needles, injections, cures? What the fuck happened to me?_ Matthias glanced at the palm of his right hand. _Claws? Fur? I'm...a worgen. _Had he always been? That was a better question? His mind was scrambled, his body broken, although not beyond some simple herbs and a few bandages, and he needed to get out of the forest.

The worgen took another look at the brilliant display of nature around him. The light reaching the floor was minimal, and it made every direction seem to disappear into a hole of blackness. No roads, no travelled paths. _Whoever had put me here did a good job at leaving me to die._ No more use procrastinating. He needed to find a settlement quickly. Standing up straight, the worgen towered at a height of eight feet, his body long and slender. Taking the first step towards a vastness of green, his chest blanketed itself in piercing pain. Matthias's arm immediately shot towards the area of pain, a pitiful attempt to stop the pain. _Broken ribs can be counted on._ His mouth curled into a grin. Every step sent another lance of pain through the same area and after a mile; Matthias was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. His breathing was heavy and his progress slowed. It must have been late afternoon when he had been jarred from unconsciousness, because dusk was on the horizon, and the once welcoming forest was turning into dark nightmarish place to linger. Matthias stopped, perked his ears and took in the smells around him, almost instinctively. _Something is close, and it's getting closer._ No chirping, no slithering, no crackle of any kind. Something was coming for the worgen, but what? His arms drew themselves around his back, slowly pulling out a rifle, used and dented as well, and a short sword, black as obsidian with a red lustre. Had he had theses all along? He couldn't remember, but they would come in handy soon.

Moune lay resting against a tree when she had heard the noise. A lupine yell, alien and distinct, had echoes through the woods, causing the wildlife to run and her senses to sharpen. Her mind ran the sound over through her ears again and again. _Worgen, male, anger and pain_._ Not fair, either._ She smiled, she liked hunting the beasts. They had murdered her kind before, the soulless monsters, and having prowling worgen in this area would only spell disaster for the woods. She was assigned to handle any threats, and this was one threat that would be eliminated, in the more entertaining way ever.

Grabbing her bow that lay aside her in the low grass, Moune scrambled up and turned to face the tree trunk. Her long, elven limbs easily allowed her to climb the tall, oak tree. Blending with the thick, green foliage, she raced across the connecting branches of nearby trees, heading towards the source of the howl.

She had longed to kill a worgen. These creatures were nothing but broken scum that had fallen out of the Night Elf order many millennia ago. Tormented and corrupted, they had devolved into these horrifying creatures. She held a grudge against the beasts, but she could rest knowing that it was justified. Her brother had been torn to shreds by several wild worgen. _Think of it a "repaying the favour." _

The branches she crossed barely registered her feet, not even trembling as she sprinted through the treetops. The colours around her blurred into a sludgy green. _How fast am I going? What if I fall? _She stored the thoughts away, if she did fall, then she didn't deserve to be an elf and might as well toss her lot in with the orcs; they were no better.

The gentle footfall of a paw upon leaves turned her head westwards. There she could see him. The Worgen. _He's going to pass right in under me. How convenient._ As the beast came closer, she could distinguish certain features. He was battered and bruised, a good eight feet tall, give or take a few inches, and decked in black & red plate armour. _Nothing I can't handle._ Blended perfectly with the brush around her, the elf went towards her boot, more importantly, towards the sheath that rest upon her right ankle. The blade that sat there was quickly withdrew, an audible _SSH _sounding in the area. She froze, watching the worgen for a reaction. She saw him sniff and perk his ears, before reaching to the items on his back. _Weapons? This could get fun._ She readjusted the blade in her right hand. It was no more than six inches, but it was a deep, sea blue and blistered with energy, a white aura bulging forth from the material. The worgen was six feet from here, an easy difference. Bringing up her blade, she clenched her leg muscles and jumped, flying through the air towards the beast.

Matthias had listened and smelled. He knew something was out there. He was ready. A simple rustle of a branch above and there was the sign. A flash of motion happened. A figure flew from the trees, the glisten of a dagger within its palms, aimed for the Matthias's throat. The worgen shifted to the right, and brought up a foot. The elf smacked into the paw, but managed to drag her dagger across the beaten chest plate of the worgen, denting and chipping the material. With his foot in her stomach, Matthias kicked. The force was sent right through the elf, into her gut and carried her backwards. She flew through the air, and landed in a heap a few feet away. Matthias turned to face her, aware of a heat growing down the side of his breastplate. _She nicked me. Bitch. _

A small, barely noticeable stream of crimson weaved through the space in the armour, pooling at the surface of the metal and dropping to the ground. With the forest void of any wildlife noise, a _pit pat _sound could be heard as the substance fell to meet with the flora on the forest floor. The wound emitted a faint sting, but the adrenaline in Matthias's system dulled the pain into nothing.

The elf quickly drew to her feet within a second of touching down, dagger brandished in a deadly manner, ready to strike again. Matthias's grip tightened on his short sword. _Where did I learn to fight like this?_ That wasn't important now; he could deal with that later as well, with the mountain of other issues that needed to be addressed.

"Lay down your arms now, worgen, and I may end your life quickly and without pain." Matthias heard the elf chirp this. "If you don't, I will not hesitate to put your through the worst misery you could ever imagine."

Matthias frowned. _She speaks the truth._ He opened his mouth to reply, speaking fluent common towards the girl. "Listen, elf, I don't know who you are, but turn and leave, and I'll forget your hostility."

He could hear the elf chuckle from here, and Matthias knew that this wouldn't end without a fight. The elf let her dagger drop to her side, standing up straight and Matthias saw her shake her head. "You don't talk to me like that, beast. Your presence here had upset this forest, and it's my job to help right the order. You need to die. Now." Instantly, she was rushing towards the worgen. Matthias had his blade up as she reached him. She went high, Matthias shunted his sword upwards. Both weapons connected, sending a spray of sparks bursting from the metal. The elf's face was illuminated for a split second, but Matthias could make out that she was young, even for an elf. The contact sent both of them staggering back; Matthias stumbling back and the elf grunting before regaining her composure and continuing the attack. The dagger and the short sword met many times; each sending off a display of light, as the two worked their way back and forth through the clearing. Eventually, both parties were near exhausted. Matthias was panting, leaning with a palm on a tall oak tree to the right of him. The elf across from him was crouched on the ground, hiding her tired features in a facade of a battle-ready stance.

"You know how to fight, worgen, I'll admit that much. But our corrupt spree ends here." Slowly, she rose from the ground. Matthias kept his yellow eyes on the elf, waiting for the moment to strike. Without warning, the elf was bull rushing the worgen. Juking back and forth and seeming to meld into the shadows of the dark, the elf quickly closed the distance between the two. With only feet to spare, she pulled a similar stunt as before, leaping from the ground and slashing her dagger down in a sinister strike.

Matthias smiled. _It worked. _He wrenched himself from leaning on the tree, just as the elf drew near. She collided into the wood of the oak, the dagger implanting itself half a dozen inches in the plat before snapping under the force. Shards blew out in every direction, and now that she was unarmed, Matthias struck. Reaching out, he snagged the elf's right wrist, and twisted it sharply. The elf grunted as her body was spun around. Using the momentum, Matthias was able to lift the elf several feet from the forest flow and slam her into the tree. His sword followed quickly after, as he pierced the blade through her left shoulder in a spurt of blood and into the tree, pinning her. He heard a quick intake of breath from the elf as the sword tore through her. Bringing his claws to her throat, he spoke.

"I recommend that you stand down, elf. You do not seem to have many other options." The elf remained still, and for a second Matthias thought she was listening to him, but he was wrong. Matthias heard a sound escape her lips. As first it sounded like a cough, but then he realized it was a laugh. He saw the elf's lips curl into a stony smile.

"Look down, worgen." She whispered lightly.

With a quick glance down, Matthias's control over the situation faded away, as did his confidence. The elf's crossbow lay pinned against his chest, the bolt would pierce through his left lung if fired and break more ribs. _I can't move. A single twitch that indicates an attack, and I'm coughing up my own lungs. _

She must have caught his glance, because more laughter poured from here. "Now, how about you let me go, and I don't spill your little worgen guts all over the forest floor." Matthias didn't have many choices. _I might be able to snap her next before she fires. _That was a stupid thought. Is she registered any pressure on her neck, than she would fire anyways.

"I'm waiting, mutt. Maybe your guts aren't that important to you, but I'm sure these are." He could feel the crossbow lower a foot. "You have three seconds to release my throat, or I shoot your damn balls off."

Matthias sighed, narrowing his eyes at the elf. In one quick motion, he let go of her throat and leaped back, expecting a bolt to come flying at him any second. Surprisingly, none did, and the elf let the crossbow fall to her side. He watched the elf stir and move, before stopping. "You could have removed the sword," he heard her spout from the tree. The elf reached up the arm from her free shoulder and took a hold of the handle on the blade. It one quick, sickening moment, she pulled the blade free of her flesh with a wet _tssh_ and a spray of crimson. Instantly, she dropped from the tree, landing in a kneeled position and resting against the tree. "Elune, that stings." Matthias saw a green glow surround her left hand, as the elf murmured a few, quiet words. Putting the glowing hand to the shoulder, she let out a noticeable string of silent curses. The wound on her arm was bathe in green, and when the elf removed the hand, letting the green brightness fade, the shoulder had stitched itself back together. The elf glanced up at Matthias, and he grew ready for another skirmish. "Just a fancy little trick." She laughed again.

Matthias, injured, bleeding and losing this battle could only sit and stare as the elf toppled sideways into the grass; unconscious. _You've got to be kidding me._ At first, the worgen thought it was a ploy, but when his foe remained face down for a long passage of time, he knew that the elf wasn't trying to play a trick.

With a faint smile at the ironic outcome, Matthias turned and searched the battlefield they had carved through. His rifle lay sliced in two by a small group of vibrant purple flowers. _Never got to use it._ His sword lie next to the unconscious elf, coated in a purplish blood from where it had gone through her shoulder. Cautious, Matthias crept over to quickly snatch the weapon from the area around his foe.

Gear in hand; Matthias was ready to continue with his journey before he had been so rudely interrupted. _Let's hope luck forgoes any other encounters today._ Matthias cast another glance back towards the elf. He was sure she would track him again as soon as she awoke, which could be very, very, uncomfortably soon. _Can't have her on my trail, too distracting and dangerous. _Sword in palm, the worgen drew towards the elf, the vicious piece of steal raised above his head to swing a deadly strike. A loud _thwack_ filled the surrounding area, and then the forest was drowned back in eerie silence.


	3. Unwanted Answers

**A False Cure Part Two**

_The worgen was fast, but she was faster, or so she thought. A rookie mistake, letter her anger fuel the attack. There was no logic in the attack, on consideration that she may be caught off guard. The chance of the beast countering? Unlikely. Unfortunately, Moune needed to review her calculations. The lunge and jump was easily pushed aside, and in one frightening moment, the worgen vanished from sight and countered. She felt her wrist twist violently, and as Moune let out a surprised gasp of air, her body was smashed against the tree, knocking whatever of the precious gas she had managed to such in from her chest. The blow dazed her, her vision becoming muddy for no more than a second, but she could still make out a faint glint of steel. A brutal, engulfing warmth erupted in her shoulder, as the sword found its mark. She felt claws on her throat, as the worgen's face came clearly into view. He seemed bigger, almost taller than before, and his piercing yellow eyes only hurt to glance at. The creature snarled, jumbled words pouring from its mouth. Although the unfamiliar words, or strange language made no sense to her, she knew what came next. Oddly, the perspective shifted, and suddenly, she was having an out-of-body experience. She watched, separated from her body as the worgen twisted the blade in her shoulder and hauled the steel out, taking a good portion of her upper arm with it. Moune saw her body fall to the ground, saw the worgen raise the blade into the sky and saw the steel flash as it was swung through the air. The cut was clean and precise, straight through the neck and out of the other side. Slowly, she watched the head part ways with the torso, and topple..._

Moune woke with a start, the spell of the dream broken, as she was back in reality. Trying to sit up, she encountered difficultly. Her body was exhausted, and her shoulder flared with pain when she moved. She noticed that the black of night had fallen around her, limiting view. However, breaking through the blackness behind, was an orange light, flickering and cracking in life. _It has to be fire._ She turned, well tried. She found her arms and limbs would not react to her command, and looked down cautiously. Despite the lack of light, she could make out the things covering her body. _In the name of Elune, vines?_ The green plants covered from neck down to toe, restricting movement entirely. Moune struggled, regardless of the knowledge that however much she tossed and turned, the vines would not break. _Maybe if I just..._. She stretched her arms as far as possible, hoping to snap one of the green limbs around her, but nothing happen. More exhausted then before, she stopping. Moune took a few deep breaths to regain her composure, than sighed. "Damn..." A chuckle from behind made her cringe. _The Worgen! _

Struggling to run over to face her captor, the elf caught a glimpse of the crackling fire. Embers burst, exploding into bright, orange sparks, and sent airborne into the starry abyss that wait above. Each ember seemed different that the last. Some were small as grains of dirt, others big as stones, either way, they all were sent up into the sky. Moune followed a few with her eyes as they winked out of existence. Forests and fire never went well together, she thought. _This mutt knows better than to risk the whole fucking forest. Elune, give me one chance, I beg you, and I'll open the beast's neck from left to right._

Matthias watched the elf twist and turn, a smug grin on his face. _Those vines would keep Varian Wrynn captive, let alone this skin-and-bones elf. _He did his best to remain quiet, but eventually the ceaseless moving and tossing of the elf grew tiresome and Matthias chuckled. "Elf, it's no use. Try all you want, but there is only one way you're getting out of those vines and this is by listening to me.

The fire was only a small one, barely enough to keep the darkness from engulfing the area and surrounding. Instead, the dead of night would have the wait, bitter and rejected, until the fire finally caved in under the pressure and became dark itself. Matthias rose from the ground, his waist armour leaving a noticeable groove in the grass on the ground. His muscles ached, and nothing would be better than an inn, some ale, and a warm bed, but those luxuries would have to wait, until later.

The elf quieted as he approached, and her attempts to escape quietly disappeared as quickly as they had come. Cautiously, he drew around the far side, so he could see her face, and whatever she may be hiding or carrying on the thin frame of hers. Kneeling, he ventured a question. "Where are we, elf?"

For a moment, only silence persisted. Matthias saw the slight turn of the elf's head, and slowly, she looked at him. Then, she spit. The spit came out, and soared through the night air. Matthias, being close as he was, had no chance, and the glob caught him under his right eye. More silence, only the crackle of fire signalling the existence of anything besides darkness. Matthias shifted. Raising a hand, he wiped away the spit, and focused back on the elf. "Listen," his voice started, low and venomous. "You do not have much of a choice, you long-eared bitch." The last part was drowned out in a threatening growl, and before the elf could react, Matthias was on her stomach, claws against her throat.

"This did not work in your favour last time, elf. Answer nicely, or the next liquid that hits me will be your twisted, long-eared blood." Matthias had no time for this little bitch. _If I wanted to bicker and fight, I would, but I do not have the fucking time. _"I need answers. NOW." Raising the elf a foot off the ground, he slammed her violently back into the earth. "Talk." One word, but it was full of hatred.

Moune stared up at the worgen; there was little else to do. She could feel the nails on his hands sharply poking against the skin of her neck, and judging by the glare that shone from his fierce, yellow eyes, Moune knew that the beast was not lying. _I just need a little bit of fucking slack._ She wanted to scream, burst the vines and strangle the worgen until his furry face turned a sickening shade of purple, but for the moment, the advantage was his. Reluctantly, she spoke.

"Look around, mongrel; even you should know this place." She saw the worgen throw a glance around their surroundings, but his face did not convey whether or not he knew, so Moune continued. "I'm sure you remember Darkshore. The eerie lack of wildlife, the dark forest, and the presence of a pressure that cannot be explained."

Matthias kept a firm grip around the elf's thin, fragile neck. _So small, so weak. I wouldn't even have to try to end her pitiful life. _For a moment the idea seemed appealing, and a part within him even seemed excited at the proposal to choke every ounce of life from her, slowly and painfully. He ignored this primal urge, indulging would only worsen his mindset. _This is Darkshore, that much is plain to see now._ The mention of the name sparked a revival in his memory, and suddenly, he knew the area. _How long has it been since I was here last?_ The question disturbed him. _How long has it been since I was anywhere that I could remember? _Regardless, even if the elf was lying, he felt pretty sure this wasn't contested territory. The Alliance had a strong presence here, and he knew where the outposts should lay. Auberdine was around here somewhere, and that meant a dock. _And a dock means a boat._ Instant access to most of Azeroth, albeit he would need money. _Easy enough to come across._

He brought his attention back to the elf. "Tell me, Ears, how far is Auberdine from here?" The strange gaze this question brought to the elf's face only confused Matthias. Even though she didn't voice the question, Matthias pressed for it anyways. "Something you need to say?"

A sly smirk appeared on the elf's lips, and that sent another spasm of anger through Matthias. _One breath out of place and the last thing she would ever see would be her own guts. _"Speak."  
Matthias had barely finished pronouncing the 'k', when she had began chirping in her own, sarcastic voice.

"What has happened to your mind, worgen? All that bloodlust finally taint your last few memories? The Cataclysm? Deathwing's re-emergence? Surely you heard of the destruction he did upon the land? Listen to the forest, even something as corrupted as you should feel that something isn't right?"

These words sparked more flashes in the worgen's mind. Brief images and sluggish words, but nothing came to him. The elf was right though, this place didn't _feel _right. The land seemed broken, not whole. The forests empty, and even the trees looked to be missing something. "What happened to Auberdine...?"

The elf's smug grin never left her face after she had stopped speaking, but only grew when she realized how out-of-sync Matthias was. "Gone, sunk, destroyed, ruined. Any of those words would properly describe the disaster Auberdine faced. The land heaved up and down, torn asunder and drowned many. Deathwing's fires killed the rest who didn't manage to escape. Whatever you were looking for there is gone, worgen. Drowned or burned."

Matthias caught a slight change of tone in the elf's voice. Her smug expression was lined with a subtle hint of loss and sorrow. _She's upset about what happened there. Well, that makes two of us. There goes the only settlement in Darkshore. _"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Matthias muttered to himself. Prying his fingers away from the elf's neck (the idea of strangling her was still trying to surface itself in the worgen's mind) Matthias turned and paced beside the fire. The dim light from the almost extinguished fire barely lit the worgen's dark fur, painting black against the black of the night. Matthias turned back towards the elf, "You mentioned survivors, and they must have fled somewhere. Tell me where that somewhere is?"

The elf stirred. _Either from impatience, or maybe I tied the vines a little too tight. "_Where to, elf?"

"I don't know the name of the settlement, worgen. I know its north of the ruins, and that is all," the elf responded, sounding bored.

Matthias nodded to himself. "Any boats, any docks, any means of travel out of this wretched place?"

The elf snorted. "Didn't you hear me, mongrel? This place has been ravaged. Hundred are dead, and any of the sentinels that were stationed here were left is dismay, or died too. The land has been utterly destroyed, and traversing across it is almost impossible. Dock or not, if you can even reach the settlement, which you won't, you don't stand a chance."

Matthias growled. "I handled you well enough, didn't I? It doesn't matter what you think, and besides, it is the only option I have. I need to get back to Gilneas-"

"Gilneas...?"

The way the elf said the word made Matthias flinch. A twisted feeling of fear, anger and nervousness carried in the tone of his voice, and the worgen knew something had changed.

The elf shifted again, managing to sit up to look at Matthias, "You'll want to stay away from there."

"It's my home, elf, and everyone returns home, some point in their life. That time has come for me, but this damn forest and you sure are not making my task any easier."

The elf shook her head, and sighed. "That's not what I mean, mongrel. Gilneas, what you knew it as has changed, and not for the better. Nikolas Giles has taken your kingdom and ravaged it."

Matthias clenched his jaw. _That name._ The one thing he still remembered, the one goal burned into his mind, and now he had the man's full name. "What happened to Gilneas, Elf?"

"He happened. You should know your own history, worgen. What happened to your mind, or did you have one to start with?" The elf gave an empty laugh, hoping to invoke a response from the worgen, but when he said nothing and made no move, she continued. "He was a man, as most worgen were once. Nothing exceptional...but then the outbreak happened. Gilneas overrun, the worgen, the wild ones, and undead tearing through the land as it shook asunder and disappeared underneath the waves of the surrounding ocean. It must have happened during this outbreak, but Giles was turned. The worgen that bit him must have been beyond corrupted, for not only did Giles physical form change with the bite, but so did his mind. It was small a first, a few rallies here and there, but...something happened. Giles preached about how worgen weren't the curse, that humanity was. That worgen were displaying their weakness by having two forms, and he was determined to change that. Of course, most waved him off as a madman. Greymane ignored him and when he turned to Crowley, he received the same response. Someone must have been following Giles, for then their came the "cure." The vaccine to end the suffering of the worgen, to rid them of their human form, while keeping their mind intact. A few volunteers here and there, along with a few who truly believed him. It seemed small, nothing that anyone should be worried about, but then all that changed."

The elf took a breath, than continued. "The vaccine was what it was, with a little side effect. It rid the worgen of their human form, but it took their free will."

Matthias couldn't hold back his thoughts anymore. "He indoctrinated them?"

The elf managed a small nod, "Soon, he had a small army, and that's when the real trouble started. Raiding villages. Stealing people out of their homes, and burning down what remained."

Matthias knew what came next, "And these people, he fucked with their mind to?"

"Correct, and his small army continued growing. By this time, Genn and Crowley had fled Gilneas, leaving to the Forsaken, but this is when Giles made his move. His troops spread all over the country side, taking what they wanted, raping, killing, and taking the ones they could use. He sits atop Greymane manor now, holding a firm control of what used to be the city. The Undead press the broken wall, but they are easily held back. This is the third year he's been barricaded up..."

_Three years...? I must have...no, it wouldn't have been that long. It couldn't have. _"Three years...?"

"Yes, worgen, I'm surprised you haven't heard before. Whatever hole you spawned from must have kept you deep within the depths of hell for quite a while."

Matthias ignored the last comment. _Fuck, this is going to be much harder than originality anticipated. _Matthias scratched the bottom of his chin inquisitively. _There's no need to die, but I am going home. _The worgen's mind was still unable to pull back any of his memories, but he hoped more would come to him as he progressed. And there was something else too, something deep down he couldn't make out. Matthias knew there was something important waiting for him in Gilneas, some lingering presence that, while clouding over him enough to make the worgen realize something was missing, but just high enough out of reach to grasp it. Regardless, some feeling in the worgen was painting an urge to find out what _it_ was. "Is there any other way out of this damn place?"

Silence was an odd combination with this elf, and once again she was quiet. The fire had died down to nothing, and even the smoke from the pitiful remains vanished after it rose a few feet from the source. Matthias knew this pause was one of uncertainty. He presumed the elf was deciding whether or not to give him the answer. _She knows this area, but she doesn't want to tell me. Cute._

_As soon as he gets what he wants from me, I'm dead. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead. This mongrel isn't going to fucking carry me, and I wouldn't count on a friendly goodbye if he cuts me loose._ The truth was there and easy to pick out. As soon as the worgen found out the alternate route out of Darkshore, he'll either leave the elf to starve or rot, or kill her. _Maybe he'll be nice enough to slit my throat and make it quick._ Not likely. She had tried to kill him, after all, and she doubted the worgen would forget that fact. The silence stretched on, and on, and on and on, and then the worgen made his move. Leaving the shadows cast over him by the dying light of the fire, and dark smoke rising from the embers, she watched him approached her. Even in the dim light, she could make out the gleam coming off his razor sharp claws. A hand shot out, grabbing her tightly by the side, and Moune felt herself being yanked to her feet.

Moune looked the beast in the face, and found he was staring back. She saw the yellows iris's narrowed in inspection. _What are you thinking about, mongrel? _

"Elf," he began, "I grow sick and tired of your purposeful silence. Here's the deal..." Moune saw a quick gleam as one of the hands holding her up slashed down at her gut. A sharp, Piercing pain sprang up over her chest, and she felt a small breath of air leave her. The vines holding her captive slowly fell from her form as the fibres registered the slashes. Moune was surprised, relieved, and suspicious all at once, and she almost let her jaw drop from disbelief. Raising a hand slowly, and still cautious of the worgen, Moune began to run the soreness the vines had subjected to her arms and shoulders.

"When you're done standing around," started the worgen, "would you mind leading the way?"


End file.
